


The Bell

by Calliope_Soars



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Afterlife, Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Little bit of Fluff, M/M, tiny appearance by Brock Rumlow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-17 14:41:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2313167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calliope_Soars/pseuds/Calliope_Soars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“So, how’d you go out?”</i><br/><i>It was a question uttered as casually as a hello.</i><br/> </p><p>People just aren't as polite in the afterlife as you'd think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HelenVanPattersonPatton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelenVanPattersonPatton/gifts).



> I honestly don't know what came over me. I couldn't sleep and wrote this on my phone. I think my Sam/Steve love, insomnia and general proclivity for angst created this weird little thing.
> 
> It's my very first story for this fandom.  
> I do hope you like it.
> 
> I added the poem because I felt it suited Sam & Steve in this story. Also ee cummings owns me.
> 
>    
>  **Music:**
> 
> _And So it Goes_ – Sara Gazarek  
>  _If I Could Build My Whole World Around You_ – Marvin Gaye ft Tammi Terrell  
> 

_You are tired,_  
 _(I think)_  
 _Of the always puzzle of living and doing;_  
 _And so am I._  
  
 _Come with me, then,_  
 _And we'll leave it far and far away—_  
 _(Only you and I, understand!)_  
  
 _You have played,_  
 _(I think)_  
 _And broke the toys you were fondest of,_  
 _And are a little tired now;_  
 _Tired of things that break, and—_  
 _Just tired._  
 _So am I._  
  
 _But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight,_  
 _And knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart—_  
 _Open to me!_  
 _For I will show you the places Nobody knows,_  
 _And, if you like,_  
 _The perfect places of Sleep._  
  
 _Ah, come with me!_  
 _I'll blow you that wonderful bubble, the moon,_  
 _That floats forever and a day;_  
 _I'll sing you the jacinth song_  
 _Of the probable stars;_  
 _I will attempt the unstartled steppes of dream,_  
 _Until I find the Only Flower,_  
 _Which shall keep (I think) your little heart_  
 _While the moon comes out of the sea._  
  
 **e.e. cummings  
  
**

* * *

 

“So, how’d you go out?”

  
It was a question uttered as casually as a hello. Apparently it was the first thing people led with when you were a new face. Obviously it wasn’t always phrased exactly like that. Some people were a bit more coy about it, wove in some flowery words to hide their morbid curiosity. Others were blunt and to the point. He wasn’t sure which he preferred. All of them felt entitled enough to ask it in the first place, so it didn’t really matter what he wanted.   
No introductions, no pleasantries. There was no need for social niceties anymore. People here went straight for the meaty bits. And why wouldn’t they?  
 

He would shrug in response, mumbling something about it being foggy, too unclear to really pinpoint what had happened. What had brought him to this place. He figured being as boring and vague as possible would eventually get people to stop asking. If there wasn’t a juicy story to be got, he’d be left alone. And yes, most people would let that be it, stop digging any further and go on to introduce themselves. The truth was, the question really only served as an excuse for them to get a turn to speak and share their own story.

  
He was polite, even in death, and so he listened.

  
Some folks were angry about their fate, some sad and a handful were simply relieved to be done with that whole mess down there. They’d crinkle their nose like living had left a bad stench behind, waiting for him to agree.  
He remained stoic, listening but never truly responding, except for some well-timed nods or shrugs here and there. They didn’t need him to; and mostly he didn’t have it in him to pretend this was what he had envisioned. Perhaps it was what he deserved though. The thought made him cringe, press his lips together and give a non-committal hum at another person’s _thrilling_ tale of death.

  
Sam hadn’t been here long – wherever _here_ was.

  
It was fluid, as if the space was suffering from mood swings and couldn’t decide what it wanted to be. At times it felt like a waiting room at a doctor’s office or a bank or somewhere equally bland – all brick walls and sleek cold lines. Other times it was just a patch of grass, still a little wet with morning dew, a space no bigger than a modest sized backyard attached to a warm home.  
Regardless of what it chose to look like that day, it was so big you could never reach its edges, borders or walls. It was as if the space would expand the further you walked, with each step, creating room for you that hadn’t been there previously. It was scary to wonder if the very next step would lead to nothing, that there might be a limit to the space, and that one day it might stop stretching to accommodate his restlessness.

  
Despite this, Sam walked a lot.

  
He didn’t ask the others how they saw the space, if it was different for them and the space tailored itself to each individual. Frankly he didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to know why his space was so often hollow or to consider that this might be his own pitiful creation.

  
Sam was tired of people’s stories, of that first rude question, of the way he had to always school his face to keep the truth from bleeding through.

  
Except in this place, no matter how far you walked, you’d eventually run into someone. A new face, from some new corner he’d discover on one of his endless walks. Sam would try to hide his groan, as he could see that blasted question ready on their tongue. He’d nod in greeting, polite as always, and would brace himself for an interaction he hadn’t been looking for in the first place.

Unfortunately this time, his normal tactic did not cut it. His shrug didn’t work and his ambiguous answer was met with a shrewd sceptical look.  
This man, Rumlow as he had announced with a grunt, gave Sam an uneasy feeling. A vague sense that perhaps today he had walked a bit too far for his own good. The space around them shifted again, dimmed a bit, got a little barer. Or maybe Sam was just imagining that. He didn’t know how long he’d been in this place, but this was surely the bleakest it had ever looked. Rumlow smiled wide then, while his strong hand gripped Sam’s shoulder. It was a move that exuded anything but friendly intentions, despite the chuckle he threw in.

  
“Come, I want to introduce you to some people.” The hand on Sam tightened minutely. “Fine,” he conceded and shook off the other man’s touch.

  
Within a blink, Sam was standing in front of five men. Two were crouched near each other engaged in some sort of game, while the rest lay about as if they were soaking up warm rays of sunlight. Sam realised in that moment that **yes** , he’d been correct, this space was different for everyone. He couldn’t be sure unless he asked them of course, but asking would lead to knowing and Sam wasn’t sure he was ready for that. His own surroundings had turned dark and grey, storm clouds looming from some far off place to echo his growing anxiousness.

  
“Guys.” Rumlow hadn’t raised his voice, yet all five men stood at attention. _Soldiers_ , Sam thought grimly, _and not the heroic kind_. They looked like the kind you should avoid at all cost. They looked like men he’d seen in the army, men who enjoyed war a little too much for it to be healthy. These weren’t the type to have nightmares about bloodstains on their skin.

  
Thunder clapped fiercely in the distance, Sam’s storm was growing.

  
“We have a guest,” Rumlow’s smile was sharklike when he turned to Sam, as if he had heard Sam’s silent assessment of his companions. “Didn’t catch your name.” Sam looked back to Rumlow’s minions, watched them assess him in turn and saw a sharpness cross their faces. He gave them his name and sat down leisurely as if he hadn’t noticed he was sitting amongst predators.

  
The question came again – this time from Rumlow’s men – and of course it had. After all, it was the only constant thing in this place. Once more Sam gave them the same old story, along with a shrug to say ‘what can you do’ and a touch of a weary smile. He could tell they weren’t buying it, responding much like their leader had done earlier.

  
“Bullshit,” one of the bolder minions hissed. “Everybody always knows how they died. It’s burned into your brain.” The others nodded, solemn like they were remembering theirs right then.

  
“You’ve got to excuse my friends here, we all died…” Rumlow waited, not to gather himself, but to add some dramatic weight or flourish to his statement. “We died in battle!” For a moment Sam thought he could actually see the innocent blood splattered all over these men. He blinked and it was gone.

  
Sam clicked his tongue, “That’s rough, you guys.” He was self aware enough to keep his limbs nice and loose, his poker face unwavering. “I don’t know what to tell you though…that’s not how it was for me. I wish I knew but I don’t.”

  
Sam stood up quickly, forced out some sort of pleasantry – a lame excuse – before dashing away from the chill these men had brought to his bones.  
The dark clouds around him dissipated the further he got away from them. The room settled into something smaller and warmer. It was nice. No, perhaps not exactly nice, but it was an improvement at least.

  
Time moved differently here. Sometimes it raced until it was such a blur you couldn’t tell whether or not the space around you had ever even shifted. But there were moments when it moved like molasses and Sam took the time to concentrate hard on shifting his surroundings into that pleasant grassy backyard. Apparently that was the best his brain could conjure up. It was fine. It would have to do. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be here, so for now he chose to be content with the feel of soft blades of grass sliding between his fingertips.  
It was enough.

  
Without warning, the space around Sam gave way to fierce tremors that made his stomach lurch. In a flash, he was snatched up from his sanctuary and deposited in an entirely different location. There was a kind of common area, a bell would go off and everyone would be transported there at the same time. It wasn’t a sensation Sam thought he’d ever get used to. Although it was crowded, somehow it was never stifling. The space would expand and turn into something unassuming yet pleasant, something Sam was certain everyone could see despite any of their individual frequencies.

  
The bell announced a new arrival.

  
Sam saw Rumlow and his band from the corner of his eye and pretended he hadn’t noticed them. Several more bells tolled, meaning a group of people were coming at the same time. It wasn’t rare exactly, but nonetheless a buzz of excitement went through the room. People speculated about how many there would be, where they would’ve come from. The bell meant new people with new stories and fresh answers to that infernal question. Perhaps these people would bring news from Earth, from home. With each theory of what the bell might gift them with, the happy buzz in the room bloomed fiercely. However what most had failed to remember was that the arrival of a group usually took a while. So unfortunately that meant that until the newbies came through, they were all stuck in the communal area like the most awkward welcoming party ever.

  
He heard his name said a little too loud to be a whisper. Sam ignored it. He just had to wait this out. As soon as everyone had arrived he could bail. Sam would run into them at some point, so no need to stick around. Besides, he never liked the look of fear and confusion on their faces. Nope. Instead he would sit on the grass and be alone. The mere prospect of that settled a jitter low in his gut.

  
“You know what I think…” Rumlow said to his crew, giving a very obvious glance towards Sam before continuing. “People who lie about the question, they’re hiding something messed up.” His underlings nodded, teeth bared and eager for blood. As he had intended, Rumlow’s words carried through the communal area. People, slightly bored with the delay of the new arrivals, recognised that something interesting might be developing.

  
“What do you say, Sammy? Got something to share with the class?”

  
Rumlow flashed his shark grin, before turning to a random person to his right. “You ever speak to that man?” He pointed towards Sam, “You ever ask him how he died? Has anyone?” The murmurs grew louder as a chilling sort of excitement thrummed through the air, one quite different than the earlier buzz the room had held. The space suddenly felt too small for Sam. “Lemme guess, he never answered you. Or better yet, he gave you some BS story about not remembering.” Rumlow shook his head, feigning grave disappointment over Sam’s behaviour.

  
“Except we all know our stories, we all know our deaths – whether you want to or not. You always know.”  
 

“Man, shut the hell up!”

  
“Ah, I touch a nerve there?”

  
People had all but forgotten about the new arrivals and all eyes were fixed on him. Sam was drained, by the absurdity of the moment, but also because he genuinely didn’t know what the point was anymore. What did he care?  
Except, he had witnessed this scene before. Right after Sam had arrived, the bell had chimed loudly to announce the arrival of a pale lanky teenager with dark circles under his eyes. The kid had immediately crumbled into himself, fallen to his knees, wept and muttered words he probably didn’t realise he was saying out loud. Words that had people backing away from him, whether it was in disgust or out of pity or due to something equally stomach-turning.  
No one had asked him the question. The answer was obvious.

  
Sam caught himself wondering where that boy had gone and gave his head a harsh shake to clear it. He repeated the move to dispel some of his anger over the fact that all eyes were still locked on him, that people still expected him to answer them. “I don’t get this…this weird obsession with everyone’s deaths. It doesn’t change anything. You know that right? It doesn’t get you back down there or make being here in this place any better.” Sam smiled, so wide he almost felt it. Sadly it wasn’t bright enough to hide his lies anymore, so he wrung his hands together before speaking again. He stood up straight, arms now crossed in front of his chest.

  
“My death wasn’t a surprise or a shock or a tragedy. It was a simple one.”

  
As he spoke the words, his memories came blasting through his mind in Technicolor and his knees may have buckled ever so slightly. Sam remembered the utter exhaustion, the grief that had sunk into his soul until that was all there was to him. He could almost feel the powerful breeze pushing at his back, feel his chest fill up with clean crisp air before he…

  
“I simply went up to the highest spot I could find and kept walking until there was nothing but air beneath my feet. I chose my death.”  
His face was a mask, neutral and firm, and yet he didn’t look any of them in the eye. Not because **he** was afraid, but because he could tell **they** were.

  
No one had noticed the new arrivals, or heard the ding of the bell. None had spotted the glowing light indicating that they were free to move about again, to leave the communal area. No one moved. And just like with that kid, a pale echo of that scene, people slowly backed away from Sam. He didn’t have to look at their faces to know he would find anger, pity, confusion and every other human emotion a face could twist itself into.

  
Softly in the distance, he could hear the question being asked to the newbies.  
As if nothing of importance had occurred prior to their arrival, like he hadn’t just shown his insides to a bunch of strangers. Yet it wasn’t surprising to him that people were eager to return to their routine, to whatever safe comfortable space they had carved out for themselves here in this wretched in-between place.  
For a flicker of a second, Sam wondered if he would come to share the same fate as that young boy. He clenched his jaw to banish the thought and tucked his hands in his pockets. Sam was ready to stride off and truly find out where the edges were to this place. Ready to keep walking even if there was nothing solid to keep him from falling. Maybe he could do it all over again, maybe he’d end up someplace different. Less empty or more, he didn’t know which was better.

  
Sam was startled by a light touch on his elbow. A new face. Of course it was.  
Just what he needed.

  
“Welcome,” he spread his arms, reaching his palms out towards the gloomy greyness his mind had surrounded him with, “to **this,** whatever the hell it is.”

  
“I uhm…I heard, when we arrived. I caught what you said.”

 __  
Of course.  


Sam’s face flushed with heat, which only managed to annoy him further. He wasn’t ashamed, that was not what had fuelled his secrecy – his refusal to answer the question honestly. After all, he had made the choice. Simply stated, it was Sam’s death and it was nobody’s business how or why it had happened.  
 

He didn’t say any of that though, since he was polite even in death.

  
Instead he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from blurting out his fears to this stranger. To tell him about that teenage kid who confessed too much, who’d been so truthful it had backfired on him. Sam didn’t admit how this man’s unabashed honesty gave him the feeling of being caught out and cowardly. It was difficult to will his face to return to neutral, to hide what might come spilling out. Nevertheless, he managed to lock all of that away. Sam had meant to just slink away to some corner somewhere after his confession. People would warn the new ones not to ask him about his death. Not to bother. He would finally have that solitude he had been chasing since he got here.

  
“I just wanted to see if you were alright. The crowd, the people over there…”  
The man ducked his head a little. “They acted like they hadn’t heard you or something.”  
Apparently his silence was making this man nervous.

 __  
How odd.  


The blond licked his lips, flicked his bright blue eyes up for a second before plainly stating, “I didn’t like it.” The statement was so simple, so very honest, it filled Sam with a sad longing he hadn’t felt since leaving Earth behind.

  
“Thanks,” he rasped, certain that that fierce clear gaze was still on him. Sam coughed softly to get a grip on things. It took him a beat to notice the room expand by a few inches, become just a touch less grey.

  
“I’m Steve, by the way. Steve Rogers. Sorry, I probably should’ve led with that.”

  
Sam gave him a genuine smile, one that warmed those gloomy places he’d forgotten about. “Nah, you’re good. It’s your first day and you’re doing better than most.” He should’ve said better than anyone in this entire place, but Sam didn’t want to expose himself that much. So he gave his own name in return and the two men shook hands.

  
“It’s strange.” Steve paused, crossing his arms awkwardly around his body as if he were cold all of a sudden. “No one asked me my name, or how I was doing. They just…” He ran a hand through his hair and let it settle on the back of his neck. He looked uncomfortable. Sam remembered that feeling. He recalled how that constant discomfort on Earth had made him want to exit it for good. Sam clenched his fists, as he’d gladly avoided these thoughts for quite some time now.

  
“They just asked you how you died.” Sam finished for him with a snort, trying not to sound bitter but clearly failing by the way this man’s sharp eyes softened with compassion. Sam made a motion with his shoulder, indicating that they should walk, that this Steve could tag along if he wanted to.  
Sam didn’t enjoy standing still for too long. People might come up to you and start talking and asking questions. He wasn’t really sure why he had invited this newbie along with him though. Maybe it was because Steve didn’t seem interested in an interrogation, or perhaps of how heartbreakingly earnest his concern for Sam had seemed.  
 

They walked in silence for a bit, until Sam suggested they take a seat. Steve plopped down next to him, that raw sincerity plain all across his face. Sam tried to conjure up his grassy patch, to calm himself down, and he could almost…

  
“Wow…is that? Did **you** do that? Is that grass?”

  
Sam looked up, startled. “You can see it?” It was a timid question, one he wasn’t sure he wanted answered.

  
Steve nodded with his mouth a little open in awe, his eyes excited and alert.  
It was the prettiest sight Sam had seen in a long time, to witness someone be so openly joyful like that. “It’s a little blurry, but yeah, I can almost –” His smile grew into a full-fledged grin. Quite a handsome one at that, Sam thought out of the blue. “Yes, yes, I can even **feel** the grass now. This is nice.”

_  
Huh._

  
“People normally don’t see. I mean, I’m not completely sure of course, but I think everyone has their own version of this place. The only time we all share the same view is when there are new arrivals. I’ve never heard of this, didn’t know.”  
It was the most Sam had said to anyone since arriving here.

  
“I’m glad I’m able to see it,” Steve said kindly, curling a long blade of grass around the tip of his finger. “To feel it. It’s…” His smile was shy now, yet grateful.

  
“Nice, yeah.” Sam lay back down onto the grass, startling a little when the sun came out and warmed their little patch of green. He had never seen that before.

  
Time stretched, folded onto itself and then uncurled again.

  
Sam wasn’t sure how long they’d be lying there side by side, but it felt easy and comfortable. There was a beautiful silence that neither man seemed to want to disturb, a calming quiet that felt rare and precious. Sam had closed his eyes, soaking up this new sensation of warmth that his space had been lacking for such a long time.

  
“Is it always this warm, this sunny?” Steve had stretched out beside him at some point, his muscular frame languid, their arms close but not yet touching. A little hidden corner of Sam’s brain latched onto that word – **yet** – and something odd flurried up inside his chest. He wasn’t sure what that was exactly, but it wasn’t unpleasant. So he allowed himself a moment’s indulgence to glance over at Steve, this man who’d decided to do everything backwards and was stirring up things Sam couldn’t have imagined. It felt like the air around them was pulsating with potential, although it frightened Sam to think of what that could entail.

  
Steve turned his head to the right in order to face Sam, a content lazy smile trickling along his lips. “Earth to Sam…or I guess _heaven_ in this case,” the blond chuckled and Sam was astonished by that easy joy again.

  
“You sure are something else, Rogers,” he bit his bottom lip to keep from grinning and exposing these surprising yet quite lovely feelings fluttering inside of him. “Never seen anyone this relaxed so soon after arrival. Or anytime really.” Sam nudged him with an elbow and gifted this man with a real smile. Frankly, he wasn’t sure he could’ve kept it in any longer, not with someone like Steve within touching distance. Not with the loud hum of hope lingering around them.

  
“And to answer your question: nope, it’s never been sunny here before.” Before you, he should’ve said, but he lacked the courage to follow through with that last little word. Instead of the smile he had hoped to get in return, Sam watched Steve’s forehead crease with worry. Before he could ask what was wrong, the blond pursed his lips a little, preparing to push out words that appeared to be glued to the roof of his mouth.

  
“Is this heaven, Sam?”  
 

“Just got here and you’re already going straight for the big questions I see. You’re either very brave or very dumb – or both.” Sam tried to laugh it off, but he worried it would seem unkind and cause Steve to leave altogether. Sam refused to dwell on why his stomach turned at the thought.  
 

He tapped his index finger against the back of Steve’s hand, so the man would turn to look at him again. Sam wished he were able to explain how this was the longest, most real conversation he’d had in such a long time. He wanted to confess that he didn’t remember how to do any of this anymore, how to interact with others. Not really. Not without his easy lies to fall back on. Sam knew how easy it was to ruin things. He truly didn’t want to mess this up, because these were the brightest moments he’d had since his death. Most of all, he wanted to apologise for his awkward ineptitude.  
 

In lieu of revealing all those painfully truthful things, Sam looked up at the clear blue sky and tapped Steve’s hand again. Slightly more hesitant this time.

  
“I’m sorry. I just…I’ve avoided thinking about it, is all.” Blue eyes bore into him, compelling Sam to continue. “In case you hadn’t noticed, there are some _not-so-good_ guys in here with us. For a long time I was convinced this was hell.” Sam made to move his hand away, to break the idle touch between them, but Steve grabbed hold of it before he could retreat. The contact, skin against skin, freed more of those sticky words wedged deep down in hollows of Sam’s chest.

  
“I don’t know if this is purgatory, or a waiting area or some sort of cosmic joke. Maybe this is **all** there is, for everyone. Good and bad people alike. Mhmm, what I do know is, I don’t belong in any kind of heaven – even if a place like that exists. I know I’ve hurt people with my choices. I shouldn’t get to have good things.”

  
“You’ve got **this** though, right here.” Steve lightly pressed their clasped hands against the pliant carpet of grass. “This is good. This place you’ve made for yourself. So this can’t be a punishment.” Steve locked his gaze onto his, until Sam could feel his own palm get sweaty with nerves. Steve’s strong jaw set with a lovely sort of conviction and his hand tightened securely around Sam’s.

  
Time sped up and slowed at the same time, it was difficult to explain the sensation other than it made them feel as if months had been shrunk and crammed into minutes. Suddenly a single sunny afternoon had a formidable weight to it. It was dizzying yet exhilarating all at once.  
 

“I know it’s none of my business, but…why did you do it?”

  
This time Steve made to release his hand, but Sam wouldn’t allow it. He was solid and present, which made peering into all these dark corners less scary. Sam released a long low breath, felt slightly bolder. The sun shone a touch brighter, a soft breeze danced along the lawn. Sam hadn’t realised that he was the cause of this careful shifting of the space around them. The two men let the quiet settle between them again while they bravely kept their palms pressed together.

  
“You want to know why I lied about my death?”  
At least that’s what Sam hoped the question had been referring to.

  
Steve gave a barely perceptible nod and kept his striking blue eyes fixed tightly on the sky above them. A sky which was now suddenly starting to dot with clouds. Sam felt relief at the intent of Steve’s question and took a beat to concentrate hard. He willed the clouds away, just so the sky would match the eyes of the man beside him. All the while, Steve was in the midst of turning the most charming shade of red. Most likely afraid that he’d gone too far with his curiosity, Sam considered.

  
Sam began telling him about the kid, about how they had shared the same secret. He told him how everyone had reacted, had ignored the boy until he sort of went away. Steve’s expression turned into one of grim determination, clearly still eager to fight a battle regardless of whether it had already been lost or not.

  
“Where did he go?”

  
He sounded so worried that Sam couldn’t help but rub his thumb in neat little circles along the back of Steve’s hand. There was such unabashed kindness in this man, such compassion. Yet it troubled Sam, made him desperate to shield Steve from all the ugliness floating around out there.

  
“Not sure really. All I knew was, I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want to end up like that kid. To fade away cause no one would acknowledge my existence or maybe get sent someplace worse than this. All ‘cause of some invasive question people just wouldn’t shut up about.”

  
They both were silent after that, lost in their own thoughts for a while. Sam’s mind had shrunk, only having room for those delicious sensations that were making his frame relax into the ground. It was as if his entire being was solely equipped to register the warm sun on his skin and the sweet lazy way Steve’s finger was caressing one of his knuckles.

  
“Can I try something?”  
 

Sam gave Steve a wary look, but bowed his head in agreement anyway. He watched the blond inch closer to him until their sides were fully touching. Steve interlocked their fingers then, didn’t falter as he’d made it so their hands slot more snugly against one another. There was that word again, squirming past all the nerves and heat and fluttery bits in his gut. Nice, this was **nice**.  
Sam watched a pretty blush travel along that lovely pale skin, from his hairline all the way down past the collar of his shirt. He idly wondered how far that blush went, then swiftly felt his own face heat at the surprising path his thoughts had gone down. Steve squirmed a bit, let out a deep breath as if to centre himself and closed his eyes. Sam was utterly mesmerised by the sight next to him that he didn’t notice what was happening at first.  
 

There were – _oh God_ , there were actual flowers popping up out of the ground, like tiny vibrant gems that had been sprinkled all across the lawn. The most beautiful bursts of colour and sweet smells spread out all around them. He squeezed Steve’s hand, because he had no words for this. No way to describe what a gift this was. This place equalled solitude for Sam, but now – maybe…

  
Sam instinctively went to touch one of the flowers with his free hand, to see if it might disappear, to test if it was real. He laughed, a wild and boisterous sound, when his finger tentatively felt and then grazed along its silky petals. Some dreadful tightness he had been carrying around inside of him slackened little by little, until it broke free completely.  
Sam realised in that moment that he had forgotten what it was like to be happy, how to laugh or be a part of something significant. It’s simply not something you could admit aloud, that a stranger had suddenly managed all of this.

  
With wet brown eyes, he turned back to stare at Steve, whose face was a remarkably handsome mixture of surprised and smug. He didn’t speak either, probably because Steve could also sense the heft of what had just transpired. Despite the shy blush still staining his cheeks, Steve remained undaunted and met Sam’s stare head-on. His eyes roamed along Sam’s features, greedily drinking him in and not wasting a glance to take in the magic Steve had created around them. Reaching out with his other hand, Steve picked a bright red flower and sort of twirled it between his fingers. He looked over at Sam in a way that made his breath still. Steve lingered a beat to smell the blossom, before taking great care to tuck it snugly behind Sam’s ear. He gave a satisfied nod at his handiwork.

  
“Can I try something else?” There was a hint of teasing there, a lovely quirk to Steve’s mouth that Sam quite liked and certainly wanted to see more of.

  
He nodded again, very eager this time.

  
For reasons he couldn’t really explain, Sam chose to close his eyes for this. His stomach fluttered with excitement, his lips curved into a small secret smile. When he felt Steve release his hand, the corners of Sam’s mouth wavered some. Maybe he had been reading this all wrong, his thoughts had been silly after all. He didn’t know this man, nor did he comprehend why there was such immediate ease between the two of them. It had felt like they’d be lying here forever and a day, but things were confusing in a place like this. Sam felt Steve shift beside him, away from him, instantly bereft at the absence of his warmth along the length of his body. All the same, he didn’t want to look just yet. Disappointment was a sensation he would happily delay. He wanted to keep this moment for a while longer. Maybe try out hope for a change.  
 

“Man, you run out of party tricks already? This is taking ages,” he said with something akin to nonchalance in his tone. Sam’s heart quaked though and he wished he could push those stupid words back down his throat. Steve chuckled, and to Sam’s ears it might as well have been the loveliest sound in all the world. He must’ve grinned foolishly, because it earned him another soft laugh. Sam could actually feel the puff of air on his face, causing his nerves to flare up a little. A happy swoop of heat did flit through his belly at the thought of Steve still being near – or better yet – even closer than before.

  
A strong hand moved to cup Sam’s face with surprising gentleness, “is this still ok?” Sam gave another nod, but kept his eyes screwed shut. He sighed, ignoring the urge to arch up and get closer. To feel that breath on his face again and lean just a little into the warm palm at his cheek. Long calloused fingers smoothed along Sam’s face; his brow, his jaw, his temples and even the slope of his nose. Steve brushed a thumb along Sam’s bottom lip, as soft as a tickle, and then followed the full curve of the top one. Finally he leaned in, the air somehow sweeter in that small pocket of space between them.

  
“Still good?”

  
Sam let out a frustrated growl and opened his eyes to find Steve’s clear blue gaze sparkling with mirth. Sam may have pouted a little, which got the blond to let out a short bark of laughter. Steve cupped his face again, rougher this time, and _finally_ slid his lips against Sam’s. It was too slow, too chaste, too light a touch. That is, until Steve darted his tongue out to sweep along the seam of Sam’s mouth, a move so quick it earned him another low growl.

  
Steve had his knees planted on either side of Sam, while he kept his body suspended above him by keeping his weight on his forearms. Steve raised an eyebrow at him, to which Sam just licked his lips and tried his best to look unaffected.

  
“You wanna try that again? ‘Cause if I’m honest, I’m not really sure what you were going for there.” Sam’s glance flicked between Steve’s mouth and eyes, offering a challenge of his own. If it was games he was after, well then Sam was polite enough to oblige the man. “Didn’t really catch it.” He pressed his open palms against the sun-warmed grass to avoid tugging this man back to his mouth and showing him what he needed. Sam was amazed at his own restraint.

  
“Ooh…I wasn’t clear enough?” Steve attempted to keep from smiling, but Sam had already stopped trying at that point.

   
“Nope!” He let the word out with a happy pop, biting his bottom lip to keep from laughing out loud. Steve gave a solemn nod, as if he was considering his _failure_ and then wet his lips quite slowly. It was at that point that Sam elected to play a more active role in this dance of theirs. He brought his hands up to grip Steve’s broad shoulders, instead of grasping small tufts of grass. Sam was coming to adore the dopey dazed look Steve was giving him once he’d decided to participate more. He beamed at the way Steve’s body unconsciously lowered itself inch by inch when Sam began to move his palms up and down his back.  
Sam brushed his mouth against Steve’s chin, not exactly a kiss but a promise of one, and then pulled him down onto him so their bodies were finally pressed together. Relishing the feel of Steve’s full weight on top of him, Sam lost himself to the happy tangible reality of the moment.

  
“Nope,” Steve repeated in mock offence, breath shallow now as he allowed his body to slot nicely against Sam’s. Though neither noticed, their garden grew and stretched the more they moved against each other. More space, more grass, more blossoms. Steve smoothly pressed his mouth against Sam’s, deepening their kiss and licking into Sam’s mouth until it felt like they were both just made out of gasps and moans. Hands moved freely all over, their kisses growing hotter than the sun shining down upon them. Sam’s fingers were lightly tugging at and weaving through Steve’s hair, arching his body up the way he had wanted to earlier. Afraid he was too heavy, Steve rolled off of Sam but tucked him close as they moved to lie on their sides, facing one another. He moved to secure the flower behind Sam’s ear and let his thumb skim along the curve and down to his earlobe. In turn, Sam brushed a few fingertips along the skin just underneath the hem of his shirt, smiling as he whispered that the space around them appeared to have doubled in size. Steve nodded, as if he had expected nothing less – as if any of this was normal, and went on to leisurely dot kisses along Sam’s collarbone.

  
The two men paused, held hands again, to try and let their hearts catch up a bit. They smiled at one another, more than a little dazed, until a sound startled them. Both looked up, Steve already sitting upright and then pulling Sam up to do the same.

  
It was a house.

  
There had never been a house.

  
“Did you?” They both asked simultaneously, sitting there and staring at this building _they_ had created.

  
Sam laughed, “It’s really beautiful.” So beautiful it sort of frightened him, kind of like the blond next to him.

  
“I guess I’m a better kisser than I thought.” At the sight of Steve’s smirk, Sam really had no other choice than to punch him in the arm. It elicited that laugh again, making Sam tell himself that he could be brave for someone like this. Steve was still grinning at his lame joke, so Sam kissed him long and hard.

  
“I only ever got the backyard – and even that was a stretch. There was only enough room for one to sit. And now…” Sam blinked away the wetness itching to come out and gave Steve a weak smile. “Thank you.”

  
Steve blushed in that lovely way of his, clearly uncomfortable with compliments, so he jumped to his feet instead. He dragged Sam up from his sitting position and towards the steps of the house. _There was even a porch swing._  
Sam looked back, took in how his bleak grassy patch had grown into a lush colourful garden. There were trees now. A gentle chirping could be heard in the distance, almost like a serenade.

 _  
Birds_.

  
They kept their fingers interlocked, palm to palm in order to chase away the nerves flitting at their edges. Steve stopped on the second step leading up to the house, lost in contemplation.

  
“You know that question, the rude one about death?”

  
Sam swallowed, only nodding when he felt Steve tighten the clasp of their hands.

  
“I just thought,” he looked bashful suddenly, but continued when Sam tilted his head in interest. “There are so many better questions they could start off with. When you arrive I mean. Like…” Steve paused again when he noted Sam’s awkward anxious stance, kissing him slow until his shoulders lowered some. He walked them all the way up the stairs, one hand holding onto Sam and the other carefully brushing against the door handle. Not yet turning it.

  
“What was the last thing you ate?”

  
Steve looked so pleased with himself that Sam couldn’t help but answer with a smile. “You have to know how cute you are right now,” Sam chuckled at the pretty sight of Steve’s rosy cheeks. He smoothed his other hand along the back of Steve’s and took a moment to consider the question. “A kiwi. Except not the regular green kind, but one of those sweet golden ones – you know? And you?”

  
"A granola bar – I think,” he sounded embarrassed for not having a better answer to his own question, “yours sounds delicious though.” It was adorable, Sam thought, since he could’ve clearly just made up something more impressive. He was finding that this man was as genuine as they came.

  
Sam hadn’t realised Steve had been distracting him as he led him into the house. They were inside. The room moved like liquid, shimmering almost, like air rising off a hot tarmac road. It took a few blinks until it settled into itself. Sam touched the wall and tested how sturdy it was. It all looked simple and warm and just what he would’ve wished for himself. Except there were touches, ones he couldn’t account for and didn’t recognise as his own.  
Once he realised, Sam’s heart skipped happily. He looked over to his left, at the man still holding onto his hand, and watched Steve scan the room with the same sort of awe and scrutiny he had expressed.

  
“It’s nice.”

   
The word was spoken shyly, as if Steve wasn’t sure that Sam would understand his underlying meaning. Sam barely managed to utter a feeble “Yeah”, no words good enough to explain what he was feeling with more grace.  
 _Nice_ , it meant more now. It meant they had no words because this was beyond all that. This was better. Sam looked over to the kitchen and right there in the middle of the counter was the thing that made him want to cry, that sucked all the air out of the room.

  
A large bowl of kiwis. The golden ones.

 


End file.
